


The Mermaid’s Favour

by Sunfreckle



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: A fairy tale with a dash of philosophy, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Because ExR, Betaed, M/M, Mermaid Enjolras, POV Grantaire, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 21:08:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15057836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfreckle/pseuds/Sunfreckle
Summary: People told stories about the merfolk, but Grantaire had never believed them. Even if he had, he would never have imagined this. The amber eyes still haunted him.“A cruel trick to play on a man,” Grantaire muttered to no one in particular as he hauled his boat ashore. “I might have lived my entire life without knowing what wondrous things I was never meant to see.”





	The Mermaid’s Favour

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: probably not safe for anyone afraid of the sea/water, there’s a pretty anxious bit in it.
> 
> Inspired by [ this absolutely gorgeous piece of art ](http://tissueboxesforseals.tumblr.com/post/174049896840/heres-my-contribution-to-mermay-an-exr-piece), that the kind artist allowed me to write a story about. <3

 

If a son was supposed to follow in his father’s footsteps unless he could choose a path towards even greater prosperity, Grantaire would have to be called a disappointment. His father came from a line of merchants, but a disgust for figures made his son turn back, to follow the profession of his mother’s family. Really, Grantaire considered himself unsuited to any profession, but in the life of a fisherman he at least found more to agree with and less to dislike than in the life of a merchant.

As it was, he divided his time between his bed, the sea, and the tavern, and the latter certainly with most enthusiasm.

Still, Grantaire had love for the sea. He could love the waves, predictable in their unpredictability, the sea spray in his face and the wild cries of the seagulls overhead.

So a fisherman he was and every day he took out his boat to make a living for himself.

On one such a day, a day exactly like all the ones that came before it, Grantaire rowed out further than usual. The weather was fair and sun glistened so on the water that he did not want to stop. When he finally stopped to drop his net, he was nearly twice as far away from the shore than he had even been.

The sea seemed to be tugging on the net in a strange way, making Grantaire struggle to keep his boat in balance and causing him to mutter resentfully at the gold on the waves that had lured him so far. When he finally began hauling up his net, however, it was so heavy that his spirits brightened immediately. This felt like a catch big enough to allow him to go home early. Grantaire did not see the sense in catching more than he needed. Or that he could comfortably haul ashore for that matter.

A glittering of scales breached the surface of the water, but Grantaire could immediately see it was not the kind of fish he was expecting. The colours were all wrong, warm reds instead of cool grey and green, and when Grantaire gave another big heave something splashed into view that nearly made him drop his net.

Wet hair looks very different from either feathers or fur and even if Grantaire had not spotted the wet, golden curls, he could not have missed the slender hands struggling to tear through the mesh of the net.

Trapped in his fishing gear was a mermaid. The only reason Grantaire did not drop the net right then was because it went against years of habit. Suddenly a flash of fierce eyes reached him from under the tangle of hair and Grantaire was startled out of his shock.

“Forgive me,” he blurted out and he hurried to open the net, letting one side hang slack, but instead of sliding out easily, the mermaid flailed. In a short moment of the red tail sweeping above the waves Grantaire saw a piece of old netting wrapped around the fins. Perhaps that was the very reason this creature ended up in his nets in the first place.

At that moment the mermaid managed to push out of the net, but Grantaire reached out hastily and caught him by the arm. The mermaid let out such a human cry that Grantaire was certain he would understand him when he called back hastily:

“Let me help you! You can’t swim like this—”

The mermaid raised his head, ceasing to struggle for a moment and Grantaire got a glimpse of a hauntingly beautiful face. Warm, golden-brown skin, wide amber eyes and a mouth like wild roses. Perhaps there was something in his stunned look that made the mermaid calm a little, because he no longer fought him. Instead he stared, breathing heavily.

Grantaire swallowed, trying to find his voice again. “I’ll let go of you now,” he managed. “But please let me help.”

The mermaid’s eyes stayed fixed on him and despite his very human demeanour, Grantaire moved as he would around a cornered animal. Slowly he released the wiry arm from his grip and raised his hands. Then he reached for his fisherman’s knife and, holding it carefully by the blade, offered it to the mermaid.

There was a moment of surprised uncertainty on the beautiful face, but then the mermaid took the knife and, curling his tail towards him, hooked the blade around the first strand of the net wrapped around his fins. Grantaire winced to see the way the rough strings were cutting into the scaled skin, but the mermaid seemed to pay it no mind whatsoever. He let out a grunt of effort and then everything suddenly happened very quickly. The blade tore through the net and for a single moment the amber eyes flashed to Grantaire’s face, full of conflict. The next moment the mermaid tossed the knife back into the boat and with a splash of his freed tail he disappeared below the waves.

A sigh went through Grantaire’s entire being. He watched the last shadow of the graceful form disappear into the deep and that was that.

Even the seagulls seemed to take a moment of silence out of sympathy and Grantaire stared at the waves for a long time before taking up his oars and rowing straight back to the shore. All thought of fishing had left his mind.

People told stories about the merfolk, but Grantaire had never believed them. Even if he had, he would never have imagined _this_. The amber eyes still haunted him…

“A cruel trick to play on a man,” Grantaire muttered to no one in particular as he hauled his boat ashore. “I might have lived my entire life without knowing what wondrous things I was never meant to see.”

And with that he went straight to the tavern, where he might safely talk of what had happened to him without any chance of being believed.

♠

The next day, with the sea looking as familiar as the changeable waters allowed, Grantaire could nearly imagine that he had dreamt yesterday’s encounter. He set out in his boat thinking that perhaps it was better that way. Life was full of glimpses of the extraordinary that were seen once and never again. From the selflessness in the rich, to humanity in the powerful, and everything astonishing in between. The mermaid might join those rare exceptions of nature. A solitary enticing vision, meant only to be revisited in dreams.

This being the case, it was quite a mystery why Grantaire once again rowed out so far out onto the sea that day. But whatever the reason, nothing extraordinary came to pass. The waves rocked the boat, the wind blew through his hair, the seagulls cried above and Grantaire caught his fish. A lot of fish too, because he didn’t turn back when he usually would have done. After all, he had brought nothing home the day before. At least, that was what he told himself.

Only when the sun began to sink towards the water, did Grantaire return to the shore with his catch.

By this time his thoughts were entirely divided between the practiced movements of his limbs and his desire for a well-deserved drink, so he had little attention left over for his surroundings. He was still a fisherman, however, and he heard the water move.

The water was rather shallow here and as soon as he turned, there was no mistaking the shape in the water. A beautiful face looked out just above the gentle waves, dark golden curls draping wetly down until they fanned out in the water. The amber eyes were back and they were more brilliant than they had been in Grantaire’s restless dreams that night.

“You did not try to catch me again,” the mermaid spoke and his voice took Grantaire by surprise more than anything. No human had a voice like that, but it did not sound inhuman. The tones were so melodic and yet so steady, and there were such notes of warmth hidden in it, that Grantaire was certain that whatever words _he_ had ever spoken must sound inhuman by comparison. It made him, for the first time in his life, rather unwilling to speak. But the mermaid’s eyes were still fixed on him, frowning slightly even, so he cleared his throat and tried.

“I did not catch you on purpose the first time.”

“I know,” the mermaid said gravely and suddenly he swam towards the boat and gripped its edge with his hands.

He pulled himself slightly up out of the water and Grantaire made an effort not to stare and look for the place where the brown skin turned to red scales. Those same scales were scattered across the slender forearms however, catching the light to turn them nearly golden. Now he was closer Grantaire could also see the spiked ridges of the mermaid’s ears, almost reminiscent of fins.

“You helped me,” the mermaid spoke again, eyes solemn. “And you did not bring anyone with you today.”

Grantaire raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Did you think I would come back to hunt you?” he asked, perplexed.

The mermaid shook his head, still gripping onto the boat, but did not answer. Instead he said:

“You may ask a favour of me.”

“A favour?” Grantaire echoed.

“In return for saving me,” the mermaid said. “It will make us even. You name your favour, a single wish, and I’ll grant it.”

Grantaire smiled vaguely, because there was certainly something poetic in all this, but he had never been one to put stock in wishes. “You don’t owe me anything for mere decency,” he said.

This answer clearly surprised the mermaid, but it did not deter him. “Then I bestow it on you willingly,” he insisted. “One favour.”

“But I have nothing to ask you,” Grantaire shook his head. He looked at the way the sun caught in the golden hair and the slow movements of the deep red tail as the mermaid leaned on his boat and he wondered how selfish a man he would have to be to still have wishes left over in a moment like this.

“Nothing?” the mermaid demanded, eyes lighting up with incredulity. “Is your life so perfect you have nothing to wish for?”

Grantaire let out a sharp laugh. “Far from it, but nothing that is wrong with me can be wished away.”

To his surprise, and odd delight, the mermaid actually looked disgruntled at that. Something like disapproval giving extra animation to the beautiful face and an impassioned tone filling the melodic voice as he protested: “How can you possibly know that?”

“What would you have me wish for then?” Grantaire asked amusedly. “To make me rich? Money brings as many problems as it takes away. To make me lucky perhaps, except luck is dependent on chance and if you were always lucky it would become nothing but a habit. Or to make me handsome?” He laughed. “In that case we are speaking of miracles, not wishes.”

The mermaid frowned at him for a long time, before finally saying, on a rather accusatory tone: “You are quarrelling with me on purpose.”

“Perhaps I am,” Grantaire said and he found himself grinning. “Perhaps I am stalling. It is not every day that a man like me meets one of the merfolk.”

“A man like you…” the mermaid muttered under his breath and suddenly he gave Grantaire another appraising look. “What is your name?”

“Grantaire,” he answered unthinkingly.

“Grantaire…” the mermaid repeated and something about those lips forming the syllables of his name sent a shiver down Grantaire’s back.

“Will you tell me yours?” he asked abruptly. “Can that be my wish?”

“That is not a wish,” the mermaid said firmly. “And my name is Enjolras.”

It was not a name Grantaire had ever heard before and it suited him. It suited the bright eyes and the eloquent words, the golden hair and the glittering scales. He looked at him and he knew what he most wished for that moment.

“Can I ask for anything?” he asked.

“You may ask for me to grant it,” Enjolras replied with emphasis. “I need not comply.”

Grantaire nodded and asked: “Can I see you again?”

Enjolras’ blinked. “That is not a wish,” he repeated.

“It’s a favour though…” Grantaire pointed out.

“It is not what I meant,” Enjolras insisted in frustration, but Grantaire shrugged at him and gave him a smile that felt rather helpless as it slid onto his face:

“It’s all I want.”

The amber eyes narrowed slightly.

Grantaire said nothing. He just looked. Enjolras had made it quite clear he did not _need_ to grant the offered favour and Grantaire would not have him come back if he did not wish it. But _he_ wished it. A glimpse to be remembered with the rare dreams was no longer enough. Not now they had spoken, not now he had learned a name…

“I will consider it,” Enjolras replied curtly and as suddenly as he had appeared he dove back under water and disappeared with a single splash of his tail.

♠

Grantaire sang as he lowered the nets into the deep, taking the swaying of the boat as his rhythm. He was fond of the sound of his own voice, that was no great secret, and he was a better singer than he deserved to be. More natural talent than application, as it seemed to be with most things he was halfway decent at. Today, with the wind in his hair and the daylight already bright around him, Grantaire sang about love. The first song he chose did not quite suit the tone of his feelings, the second didn’t agree with the swell of the sea, but the third one rang out as it ought:

 _“Tis of a pretty female as you shall understand_  
_Her mind was set on roving into some foreign land._  
_Attired in sailor's clothing she boldly did appear_  
_And engaged with a captain to serve him for one year._

 _She engaged with the captain a cabin boy to be._  
_The wind stood fine and clearly and so they put to sea._  
_The captain's lady being on board, she seemed for to enjoy,_  
_So glad that the captain had engaged with a handsome cabin boy.”_

Grantaire faltered for a moment, struggling with his gear, and suddenly there was a different voice on the rush of the wind.

“You sing well.”

Grantaire nearly started enough to rock his boat.

He took care not to show it though and looked over slowly. He was sure he didn’t quite manage to keep a neutral expression when his eyes met Enjolras’, he was too happy for that. He came back after all.

“Hello again,” he said. “Is this my favour fulfilled?”

Enjolras smiled vaguely, but didn’t answer. He was hanging on to the side of the boat, wet shoulders glistening in the sunlight and his red tail coiling in the water behind him. A necklace of vibrant green shone against his dark skin. “That is hardly a fisherman’s song you were singing,” he remarked.

“Learned it from a sailor down at the tavern,” Grantaire replied, turning fully towards him.

“I like it,” Enjolras said, crossing his arms over the side of the boat and slanting his head slightly as he looked up at Grantaire. “How does it end?”

Grantaire looked at him in wonder. He was so used to being asked to sing, by drunken company usually, but never with so attentive and earnest a look. “If I finish the song, will you tell me why you decided to come back?” he asked. It seemed important to know.

“I will tell you now,” Enjolras said earnestly. “My returning is not a favour. I came back to help you find out a wish. That is all.”

“Your company isn’t a favour?” Grantaire grinned. “I have to disagree with that.” As far as he was concerned that was the worst of the sea, it was devoid of company.

“Not a proper favour,” Enjolras contradicted.

“So you came back to find out what is lacking in my life,” Grantaire laughed. “You may be here a while yet.”

“That could either mean there is nothing lacking or too much,” Enjolras informed him.

“So it could,” Grantaire hummed.

Enjolras narrowed his eyes at him and Grantaire thought that it was remarkable how the amber in them seemed to darken whenever he did so.

“So,” he said. “You came to find me a wish. Was spying on me while I sang unplanned?”

Grantaire had not thought, had never _dreamed_ , that mermaids could blush. But there was nothing else he could call the sudden colour dusted over Enjolras’ cheeks. It was brown colouring almost towards the red of his ears and it was stunning.

“You were singing when I swam up,” he said, sounding nearly defensive. “It seemed rude to just interrupt.”

For a moment Grantaire wondered how long Enjolras had been listening for, but instead of asking he coaxed his face into a grin again. “Mostly unplanned then.”

Enjolras huffed slightly, swiping his tail through the water. “Your song is still unfinished,” he reminded Grantaire pointedly.

“Very well,” Grantaire relented and he sang of the handsome cabin boy that found herself with child and that very child being brought into the world on the captain’s ship.

Enjolras listened quietly, sometimes so very nearly smiling that Grantaire wished he had chosen a song more suited to the mermaid’s sense of humour, but he sang all the way through to the end, finishing with his favourite lines:

_“The lady to the captain said: My lad, I wish you joy,  
For it's either you or I betrayed the handsome cabin boy.”_

Enjolras did not laugh at that, he looked thoughtful. “That is not quite an end,” he said.

“Not really,” Grantaire agreed.

“How do you want it to end?” Enjolras asked.

“Is that a way to extort a wish from me?” Grantaire snorted. How deep could someone think about a silly song?

“It was just a question, Grantaire.”

The use of his name took him as much by surprise as the first time. The sound of it seemed to stick to his skin for a lingering moment. “I think they best raise the child together,” he answered. “The three of them.”

“Is that a likely ending?” Enjolras asked.

“You asked me what I _wanted_ to happen,” Grantaire reminded him.

“True,” Enjolras agreed, almost apologetic, and after a short silence he asked: “Will you sing another?”

“I thought it was the mermaids that were supposed to sing,” Grantaire joked. Usually he was fond of performing, but he had not felt this scrutinized since he was a small child in front of disapproving parents.

Enjolras pulled a face at him and Grantaire grinned through his nerves. In truth all he wanted was Enjolras’ company a little longer and really, a song was a measly price to pay. “Fine,” Grantaire relented. “What would be to your liking then?”

“Something you believe in,” Enjolras replied immediately.

Grantaire laughed and shook his head. “Folly,” he said. “I believe in folly.” And unthinkingly he sang the most foolish, most beloved song he knew. Of love unblemished and unbroken by sorrow, and of blessed lovers indulging in the perfect happiness of twin hearts matched under the stars. It was everything most unlikely and most wonderful and Grantaire sang it well. Very well.

Enjolras listened in silence, his arms still folded over the side of Grantaire’s boat, but his head raised up attentively, where he had nearly rested it on his arms a moment before.

Grantaire had wanted to make Enjolras smile earlier, but at present he doubted whether he would survive this. Because while Enjolras did not smile, his eyes were filled with a silent, startled wonder. And those eyes were fixed so unwaveringly on Grantaire for the entire duration of the song, that Grantaire finally had to avert his own. And even with his gaze on the sky or the waves he could feel Enjolras’ eyes on him, like this sun shining on his face. It was all he could do to keep his tune.

When the song was over a silence followed, or a silence between the two of them, filled only by the ceaseless sea. Grantaire met Enjolras’ gaze again and something in the beautiful face was different. Grantaire did not know what it was, but there was a difference.

For a moment Enjolras averted his eyes, and then, looking up at Grantaire through wet lashes he asked: “Do you want me to sing in return?”

“Would you?” Grantaire replied in astonishment, but his heart beat faster for the thought of it.

Enjolras nodded.

“Is that my favour then?” he asked, affecting a light tone despite the tension wrapped around his chest.

“No it’s not,” Enjolras said and with a look that was so very near rolling his eyes that Grantaire felt himself grinning. “I’ll sing for you, but only if you ask me,” Enjolras pressed.

“Please,” Grantaire said gently. “Please sing for me.”

But Enjolras was still not satisfied. “What then?” he said. “What should I sing?”

Grantaire wondered sincerely if there would ever be a question he had sufficient answer to. All he wanted was to hear Enjolras sing. Hear that voice, so sincere and so full of water and sea breeze drawl into a melody. Nothing more.

“Something you believe in,” he answered finally, echoing Enjolras’ own words.

Enjolras gave him suspicious look for a moment, as if he wanted to gauge if Grantaire was sincere, but then he nodded and pulled back his shoulders. The sun glittered on the string of sea glass around his neck and for just a moment Grantaire forgot what was about to happen.

Which was why when Enjolras sang, it took him completely by surprise.

Grantaire was not aware of how he sank down until he was seated in the boat. Nor did he feel the sea spray in his face when the wind picked up. Enjolras’ voice was like sunlight filtering through clear water and Grantaire was lost to everything else.

♠

From that day on the townspeople saw very little of Grantaire. The other fishermen saw him set out with his boat, but he seemed to be leaving earlier and earlier and he only came back long after dark had fallen. He still sold his catch at the market, he was still occasionally seen in the tavern, but he was never around for long.

They did not miss his off-colour remarks and ceaseless chatter, but they did wonder… Because they heard his voice, either singing or laughing or raised in high spirits, echoing over the water at the oddest hours. And they also heard the music, the strange, inhuman tones drifting whenever the wind turned inland. Merfolk’s music, the old ones muttered. The kind that turns heads and steals hearts.

Grantaire didn’t mind their talk. He had never minded it before and he did not mind it now. What should he care for disapproving company on land when there was such company at sea? Every day Enjolras waited for him in the far waters, every day he was eloquent on the subject of wishes and favours, and every day Grantaire neglected to name one. What could he wish for now his fishing trips were no longer lonely? The fishing was never hard work either. When Enjolras was around, the fish seemed to swim in his net of their own accord. So he only cast out his net when it was very nearly too dark to find his way back to the shore and spent all the rest of the long hours talking to Enjolras. They talked until they ran into an argument and then they argued until they sang instead. And more often than he had ever thought possible Grantaire was simply silent, watching Enjolras swim in lazy circles around his boat. His golden hair floating on the water and his scales shimmering brighter even than the sand-polished glass catching the light as it rested on his chest. There could be very little superior to this, Grantaire was sure of that, and it made him bewilderingly happy.

He told Enjolras as much, one day when the sun was on its way down and Enjolras laughed at this. He laughed quite often now and the sound of it made Grantaire weak and warm all at once.

“You quarrel a lot for a happy man,” Enjolras pointed out, resting his chin on his hands where they grasped the edge of Grantaire’s boat. Today he had amber beads adorning his hair, catching the light like solidified drops of molten fire. Grantaire looked from the amber in his eyes to the amber in his curls and if anyone had asked him about the sun in that moment, sinking golden and triumphant into the sea behind him, he would have had to be reminded of its existence.

“That is merely human nature,” he replied lightly, because he had gotten accustomed to answering Enjolras even when his head and heart felt too full to be capable of forming words.

“I don’t believe you for one moment,” Enjolras told him. “It is _your_ nature certainly, that I do not doubt.”

“Ah yes,” Grantaire quipped. “Do not take me as your mirror of humanity. I show a very poor reflection.”

“No,” Enjolras said seriously, the laugh fading into sincerity. “I think I could do a lot worse than to have you as my mirror of humanity.”

Grantaire had no answer for this and Enjolras did not require one, so Grantaire talked of the stars instead and they both waited for them to appear in the sky. For Grantaire this was very little but an excuse to stay late. And perhaps it was the same for Enjolras, because when the dark began to grow thick and overbearing and Grantaire was forced to turn back, he asked:

“Will you come again tomorrow?”

There was very little reason to ask that, because Grantaire rowed out every morning and he had looked for Enjolras every single day since the day they met, but he Enjolras looked so earnest that Grantaire smiled and replied:

“I promise.”

This earned him a smile in return and that was all Grantaire ever hoped to gain.

♠

Grantaire was hardly in the habit of making promises, which is why he was not familiar with the particular kind of fate that waits for a promise made in good faith to start dreaming up obstacles. The following day the sunrise made hardly a difference in the light in the sky, so thickly packed together were the black storm clouds filling the heavens. There was a thunder storm brewing at the horizon and the waves were calling to it, jumping as high as they could, reaching for the blackened skies.

The sea was far too rough to go out, Grantaire knew this very well. He had known the sea since before he could walk and he knew not to trifle with it. But he had promised. He had promised Enjolras.

So in folly, Grantaire took out his boat. In foolishness, he took up the oars. In love, he set out to sea.

Of all the storms Grantaire had encountered on the water, this was the worst. Strong as he was, if the current had been against him, he would not have won. But the tide was going out and it dragged Grantaire’s boat along, the waves pushing and the wind screeching in disdain. But despite all this, Grantaire kept rowing. He barely heard the wind, hardly felt the cold, all there was in his mind was Enjolras.

The first wave that crashed over Grantaire’s boat did not disturb him, neither did the second, but the third lifted itself up high and engulfed Grantaire in stinging cold. In that moment he knew he had to turn back. Enjolras would have to forgive him for breaking his promise. The sea would not suffer his presence today. If he did not get back on land, he would drown.

But by then it was too late. Grantaire might have struggled against the wind, he might have fought the tide, but he could not win against them both. The sea allowed him to turn his boat around, but his rowing did nothing but drain the power from his limbs.

Grantaire looked back towards the shore, finding it further away than ever, and in that moment the rain of the storm came crashing down on him.

His body strained, chilled by the icy water and Grantaire laughed in his desperation. The sea had been kind to him the preceding months. Too kind. It had given him happiness, now it would take something in return.

“Go on then!” Grantaire laughed. “Do your worst! I will not give in this easily!” And true to his word, he did not give up. Not when the thunder split the sky, not when the waves crashed into the boat more often than not, not when he heard the cry of a familiar voice in the clamour.

“ _Grantaire!_ ” Enjolras’ voice was nearly lost in the rush of the storm, but Grantaire heard it.

He turned towards it like a flower to the sun and even with the rain streaming past his eyes he could see the brilliant spot of colour that was Enjolras’ form in the dark water.

“Grantaire, why did you come!” His voice was frantic, but Grantaire did not feel his desperation. To see Enjolras was all he had wanted. He had kept his promise. He tried to speak, but if he managed to make a sound it was taken by the wind immediately.

Enjolras threw himself forward in the water and with a stab of surprise Grantaire realized that Enjolras was struggling to reach him. The sea was so rough, here at the surface, that even he was being tossed about by the waves. Enjolras head disappeared under the water and for a moment of misplaced anxiety Grantaire forgot that Enjolras was not the one in danger. The oars slipped through his fingers and he got to his feet.

The wind howled in triumph when he lost his balance. The boat rocked and a moment later the sea won and it keeled over. Grantaire was a good swimmer, but there was no swimming in a sea like this. He hardly had the opportunity to try, because his kicking feet met with more than water. Grantaire could feel them getting tangled up in his own nets. Useless nets he had only brought out of habit. Nets that had caught Enjolras once.

And suddenly, Enjolras was there. His arms were dragging him towards the surface and Grantaire could breathe again. Enjolras’ face was very close to his and the howling of the wind fell away. The stinging cold of the water was lost in the warmth of Enjolras fingers grasping at him. There was still heaviness tugging on his feet, but he didn’t care anymore. None of it mattered. Not now. It was all Grantaire could do to be aware of Enjolras speaking to him.

Because Enjolras was talking, nearly screaming against the storm, with a look in his eyes as wild as the wet curls flying in the wind.

“Grantaire,” he cried, struggling to support Grantaire’s broad frame in his slender arms. “Make your wish!”

But all Grantaire could think is that where a moment before he had wished all manner of things, frantic, fearful wishes, they had all left him now. He couldn’t even bring himself to wish to be ashore. Safely back on land. Because Enjolras’ arms were around him and even with the current wrapping around his ankles and the waves grabbing at his shoulders, he couldn’t think of a single wish.

“Enjolras—” His voice was washed away by the rain.

“ _Make your wish_.” The amber eyes sparked with pleading urgency.

Grantaire opened his mouth. “Nothing—“ he gasped. “There is nothing—”

A wave crashed over the both of them at the same time Enjolras’ mouth pressed against Grantaire’s. The feeling of it rushed over him more strongly than the water did. They sank, but he didn’t even feel it. Enjolras’ had one arm still around his waist, but his other hand was suddenly pressing against the back of Grantaire’s neck and Grantaire’s tangled his fingers into Enjolras’ curls in return. His curls, that suddenly fanned out like a golden halo around his head. Grantaire didn’t realize he had opened his eyes until he saw it. The saltwater did not sting him, it did not even taste bitter on his lips. But perhaps that was because of Enjolras, all he tasted was Enjolras.

And just before Grantaire realized everything felt different, because it truly was, Enjolras’ amber eyes opened to look at him. There was no remorse in them, but there was just a pang of uncertainty.

“I’m not—” he began and his voice sounded so wondrously different underwater that all Grantaire wanted was to kiss him again. “—I’m not quite certain if that was just my wish,” he said. “Or if it was also—”

“Yes,” Grantaire interrupted and perhaps the storm had passed on the surface, because as soon as Enjolras’ smiled the dark of the water seemed to fill with light.

He loosened his grip on Grantaire’s waist in favour of grabbing his hand instead, and with as natural a movement as rowing had been for him before, Grantaire swam.

♠

Grantaire and Enjolras never did agree on whether Enjolras ever did grant Grantaire a favour. After all a wish had to be spoken to be granted and they must have something to argue about. But that Grantaire had won Enjolras’ favour and would remain in his favour was abundantly clear and really, that was quite good enough for the both of them. Love, foolish as it is, has always been good at forgetting the hardships it suffered and Grantaire and Enjolras were no exception. Grantaire was too happy to long for the shore and he only ever spoke of his old home town to tell Enjolras that if he was not remembered in tavern stories, he would be sorely disappointed in the whole of humanity.

His disappointment was not needed. The people of the village did remember Grantaire and they told his story very often. But they only ever told it as a cautionary tale.

And that, of course, was entirely the wrong story.

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed as always by my treasured sister <3
> 
> It was a joy to get back into an actual fairy tale again! Thank you for reading~


End file.
